


Exposed

by Ljparis, rainydayadvocate



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Shirtless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayadvocate/pseuds/rainydayadvocate
Summary: While stranded on a slow-moving Millennium Falcon, Han and Leia decide to share his quarters, since it's the best bed on the ship. This arrangement does lead to an occasional awkward moment.





	Exposed

After traveling at sublight for more than two weeks, Leia was concerned she was running out things to do aboard the Falcon. The ship felt smaller by the hour. She’d come to both love and hate her late night watch shift. She loved the quiet, but the ship’s hum was starting to drive her crazy. She could’ve sworn the Falcon’s nav system tried to convince her it was named L3 last night while correcting for drift, but she was more inclined to believe she accidentally fell asleep.

Another night shift down, she stretched out of the captain’s chair in the cockpit and pulled herself to Han’s quarters. “Good morning, flyboy. It’s your turn.”

Han didn't believe in setting alarms. His internal alarm clock, no matter what planet he was on, where in the galaxy the Falcon was, always woke him up at precisely the time he needed to be awake. At least, that's what he told himself, and hearing Leia come into the captain's quarters while he was already finishing washing up in the 'fresher only confirmed everything he already knew.

He stepped out of the 'fresher, a lazy morning smile on his face, and rubbed an old towel against the sides of his still bare neck. "Just in time, princess," he drawled. "Bed's all yours."

In the two weeks she’d been forced into close quarters with Han, she had managed to keep their relations, well, proper. It seemed unreal and surprising this was the first time she had seen him shirtless and it was, unfortunately, distracting. Leia wasn’t sure what she expected Han looked like underneath the vests, jackets, and old linen shirts, but a defined stomach wasn’t part of what she expected. She cleared her throat. “Just make sure you don’t leave that dirty towel on the bed like you did yesterday.”

Han looked at said towel, having just run it over his hair. “I resent that. My towel is perfectly clean.”

“Han, have you smelled it lately?”

“What? Yes.” But he did take a moment to sniff it after shaking out his hair. A little musty, perhaps, but not dirty.

She leveled a look at him, and sighed in that exasperated way that only Han Solo made her sigh. Before he could argue again or, worse, toss the towel onto the bed, she crossed the small room and sat on the edge of the bed, bending forward to tug off her boots.

Han turned to watch her. For him, it seemed unreal and surprising that this was the first time he was seeing her on his bed. Their bed, maybe, he could say now. No, not theirs. They weren't sharing it. Earlier, several days earlier, he might have thought that eventually he could maneuver it so that they _were_ sharing the bed, but he had already given up on that.

She looked up, looked at him, her hands stilling where they had begun to unwind the crown of braids from the top of her head. "Someone needs to be up front, Solo," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching. Just a little.

It occurred to Han that he’d also never seen her take her hair down. He actually sort of assumed they were stuck in place, and just always looked good. His gaze fixed on the end of a braid for a moment before he fixed his gaze back on her face. “Is the person up front going to see anything except space?”

“Likely not. Though we did pass under a hyperspace lane last night. Sorry you missed the excitement.” She realized he wasn’t moving, and he needed a push to get out of his quarters. Dropping her braids down her back, she stood and walked into the closet, fetching him a clean shirt—navy blue, a shirt she’d never seen on him. “You’ll probably want this,” she said, holding it out to him.

Han looked at her and then at the shirt, which he took in exchange for tossing the towel onto the floor. "Uh, yeah, thanks," he said. "Might get cold up there all alone, huh?" He stepped away from her and quickly pulled the shirt down over his head, realizing belatedly that it wasn't his shirt at all. It was too thin, too tight, too silky—one of Lando's. He ended up with it twisted and stuck around his face. "Not my shirt," he said, the words lost around the fabric trapped against his face.

Leia blinked. "Then whose shirt _is_ it?" she blurted out.

“It’s—” Han grunted and tried to get the shirt off, but his shoulders were a little too snug inside Lando’s shirt. When Leia did not come to his aid, he simply stretched until the seams gave way and he could get it off. “—the former owner’s shirt. I’ve been meaning to give it back to him. The friend we’re going to see, Lando? It’s his. Now I can give them back.”

Leia took the damaged shirt from him and examined the tears Han inflicted at the shoulders. “I don’t think he’ll want it back now. Did you really have to rip it off?”

“Well you weren’t helping.”

Leia had a dozen questions, and another half-dozen retorts. She snapped her mouth shut instead of asking any of them. Then she yawned and fingered the shirt, which was soft and, she imagined, probably smelled like Han even if he'd only been tangled in it for a brief moment. "I'm going to go to bed now," she told him. "Get dressed and get out of here." A beat. "Please."

Han turned and looked at her, smiling at the addition of the please. He retrieved his own shirt from the closet, but threw a second one of Lando’s at her before pulling his on and quickly pulling his boots over his trousers. With a final smile over his shoulder, he left Leia to her peace and sleeping.

Though she wanted to ask about the shirt she’d be thrown, she realized it was the same soft texture as the one Han had just ripped. Must be another of Lando’s shirts. But, to her surprise, it had the same musky smell that Han did. That was probably thanks to the close proximity to his own clothing. Deciding that was good enough, she stood to shut the cabin door, slid out of her clothes, into the shirt he’d offered, and curled up for a good morning’s sleep.


End file.
